Addiction
by Lady Jaye1
Summary: Humor. One shot. Bruce attempts to hide a secret. Easier said than done.


**I don't own D.C comics or the unmentionable item that is later mentioned in the story.**

_Author's Note: I realize that I'm currently working on This Ain't the Gold Years and Resurrecting the Red (Which I desperately need to update, hopefully this week.) but this idea for a one shot humor fic involving Bruce popped into my head as a random idea. It perhaps took me ten minutes to write (when I should have been studying for my Japanese class.) I hope you enjoy it._

**Addiction**

It was quite possibly the most humiliating addiction that Bruce Wayne could have had.

No, correction, it **WAS **the most humiliating.

It wasn't his fault really. He hadn't _intentionally _fallen for it. He blamed Tim for leaving that monstrosity lying around the house. And Barbara for watching it. And also Wally for talking about it (Even though he had politely threatened him into silence.)

Yes, he must kill them all.

In the end though, it was Bruce Wayne's own natural curiosity that caused him to pick this _thing _up. Well, not technically _this _one, but a _related _one. After all, what better way to understand the underhanded tactics that the minority was using to corrupt today's youth?

Except, of course, that he himself had now fallen victim to the assaults of mass culture.

No one else knew of this addiction of course. He kept it safely hidden. Even Alfred wasn't privy to his secret. Bruce Wayne had made every possible calculation to make sure that this unmentionable thing stayed safely hidden in the shadows. Except, he forgot one small detail.

The inevitability of human error.

He had forgotten to take the damn thing out of his briefcase.

Now, for the hundredth time since setting foot on the Watch Tower, Bruce wished that he had bought that lead lined briefcase.

Who ever said that "Hindsight was 20/20" should be shot.

Bruce had considered throwing it out of course. However, there were now too many superhuman eyes around. Someone would be suspicious and investigate.

Bruce Wayne considered his options:

**1. **Hide it in his room on the hope that no one would enter. (Not that anyone would dare enter mind you, except of course, Clark, Diana, Wally…especially Wally…)  
**2. **Somehow throw it away. (All without drawing unwanted attention from any enterprising Leaguers and the numerous security cameras dotting the space station.)  
**3. **Change to his Batman costume and hide said object on person. (No! What was he thinking? He'd be discovered for sure!)  
**4. **Supplant said object where it's ownership could be blamed on someone else.

Decision made, Bruce set out to accomplish number four. However, he met with the first inevitable obstacle. The telepath.

"_Batman, please come up to the control room."_

_Damn damn damn…_

"_I'll be right there J'onn," _Bruce thought back. _Damn damn…shit…must clear thoughts!_

J'onn raised an eyebrow up in the control room. (You can't blame him.)

Then Bruce ran into his second obstacle.

"Batman, have you seen my cousin?"

Bruce glared at Kara Kent before muttering 'I don't know.' Then he glowered again and sent the Kryptonian girl scurrying away before her x-ray vision could spot the unsaid object in his briefcase.

Third obstacle, the other Kryptonian (Also known collectively as **the Boyscout**.):

"Bruce…"

"Kara just went down the hall and yes, I'm going up to the control room."

_Glare._

"Bruce?" Clark asked with concern. "Is something wrong?" Bruce glared again as he cleverly (or so he thought) placed his briefcase at a convenient angle behind him. Clark's eyebrows lifted a fraction.

"I'm heading there myself," Clark said instead (though he really wanted to peek inside the briefcase.) "I'll walk with you."

_No you damned Kryptonian! Go away!_

Instead, Bruce gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. The two men were walking into an airlift when he met his fourth obstacle.

Oliver Queen, AKA, the Green Arrow.

**Blackmailist extraordinaire.**

"You guys going up to the control room?" Ollie asked. Both men nodded. The Green Arrow yawned before reverting briefly into Oliver Queen.

"Bruce, I've been meaning to ask you about the proposal that your company gave to….what's in the briefcase?"

"Nothing," Bruce answered.

"You're trying to hide it from Clark."

_Damn Queen. He's too clever for his own good._

"I'm not hiding it," Bruce answered coolly. "I merely prefer this method of holding it."

"Uh huh," Ollie replied dryly.

_Glare. _

Ollie held up his hands, as if to say 'Okay okay, I'll shut up now.' He and Clark exchanged glances as Bruce stiffly stared ahead. However, the ever curious Oliver couldn't help but ask again not one minute later.

"So what exactly _is_ in the briefcase?" Bruce glared at him again.

_I will kill you Queen._

Oliver wisely shut up. Message sent. Message received.

Bruce felt some relief as they entered the control room. Then he wisely buried his thoughts as a certain Martian greeted them.

"Bruce," J'onn said. "There is something I believe you should look at." Bruce raised an eyebrow. The solemn Martian pointed to the computer screen as he pulled up a three dimensional map. "I'm concerned about this region in Siberia. I'm picking up some unusual energy signatures near the city of Petrozavodsk."

Bruce sat down at the console and peered intently at the screen. So intently in fact, that he missed the questioning looks that all three men gave his briefcase. He also missed the brief telepathic conversation between his comrades.

As Bruce typed a few coordinates into the computer, a now smirking Oliver Queen peered with mock seriousness at the map before opening his mouth.

"Bruce," he said seriously. "There's something I think you should know about." Bruce paused to look up at him.

"And that is…" he asked. Ollie smirked as he dropped to a loud whisper.

"Dumbledore dies."

Bruce froze. Clark snickered as even J'onn's lips twitched in amusement.

Bruce Wayne counted to three before he very calmly pulled Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince out of his briefcase, aimed, and hit the middle of Oliver Queen's forehead with remarkable precision.

He received a very satisfactory yelp.


End file.
